by Aubry Rose

I have a dog. His name is Bosco.

And he is the best: the best dog, the best at being cute, the best at doing a happy dance, the best at turning dog haters into dog lovers, etc etc. You get the point. But there is one thing that he excels at, that melts my heart — and that is his dog-like ability to be loved.

I was thinking about that today as I rubbed his belly and smooched on his face for the umpteenth time. I was so caught in my thought that I didn’t even notice my grey flannel shirt turn into a yellow lab coat, thanks to baby dog’s excessive shedding.

As I loved up ma puppy, I reveled at his unabashed desire to receive my love. No embarrassment, no apologies, just straight up welcomed-body-melts. Like, sits at my feet and stares at me with puppy dog eyes until I acknowledge & accept his invitation (impossible to refuse) kind of longing. Then comes his metamorphosis into a pile of happiness mush that makes ME come running back for more.

And I compared it to my own ability to receive love (translation: inability to receive love). We really do love to love, but struggle sometimes to humbly and unashamedly be loved. What’s up with the fireproof walls around our hearts? Maybe it’s because we are (sub)consciously hypersensitive to the fact that we’re – face it – totally undeserving of love. We’re a fallen race. It’s also ridiculously scary to bare our vulnerable, broken hearts enough to let some love soak in, I get it. Each one of us has different reasons, a different story. But Jesus loves me, unconditionally, so that’s gotta mean something, doesn’t it? You know, the guy we crucified with our sins? And hey – if someone wants to love me, why should I stop them? In fact, I should be CELEBRATING the fact that someone wants to rub my back.

Bosco, you’re the man. You just taught me a life lesson & don’t even know it.

Bosco being an adorable puppy circa 2002

Bosco being an adorable puppy circa 2002